


Sing for Me

by Lyonface



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: Concept Fic, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 14:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8493229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyonface/pseuds/Lyonface
Summary: A one-shot where Solas is Erik and Ellana Lavellan is Christine in a rendition of Phantom of the Opera where singing is replaced by magic. It is unabashed pulpy romance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> A crack-y concept fic for a Phantom of the Opera Crossover idea that I've had for a while, complete with [some](http://thelyonface.tumblr.com/post/142790717758/where-willows-wail-thelyonface-i-tried-to) [fanart](http://thelyonface.tumblr.com/post/149686134178/so-i-drew-a-mock-up-for-a-fenharel-costume-that-i) and everything. It started with just trying to see who could fill the roles better of each character (primarily according to the book, but some improvements from the play are pretty hard to ignore) and this fic was born.
> 
> Originally posted April 15, 2016. Edited for grammar.

  She takes a breath as she awakens from her sudden lapse in consciousness, rubbing at her eyes as they met barely illuminated darkness. The smell of wet stone and warn lumber greets her before any other sensation can catch up, only barely overcoming the sway of a the chamber in which she rested. She squeezed her eyes shut as she put her trembling hand to her face, trying to deduce where she was and how she’d gotten there.

    The flash of a flaming ball of glass and crystal barreling towards her smashed into her memory and she bolts upright, the small boat that she had been resting in rocking harshly with her sudden movement as she sits up. The chandelier! The performance! It had all happened so suddenly and then, but then… Why was she not on stage? Where was she?

    Before she could take in her surroundings properly, a few candles caught her eye before an outstretched hand grabbed her attention, offered in silence. She flinched and followed the long arm clad in a dark coat to a broad shoulder and finally onto the masked face of the holder. Steel blue eyes peered down at her from behind the off-white mask separating his true face from her view, a full lower lip against pale skin barely peeking out from below the bottom edge of the construct. She’d seen all of it before, from the deep green heavy coat, to the turn of his pointed ears, to the small cleft dip in his chin. She’d seen him so many times in her dreams, how she had pictured he’d looked all those times he had visited her to teach her how to weave magic. Was she dreaming now? Had the chandelier thrust her into unconsciousness? She began to smile at the thought until that lower lip moved to speak.

    “You have been through much tonight, _da’len_ , so please, take my hand.”

    Her breath caught in her throat, her brown eyes widening as his smooth, familiar voice rang in her consciousness. But it was so clear, echoing off the stone around them. The spirit of Wisdom, reaching for her, finally revealing himself to her as she had dreamed that he would. But…he couldn’t…

    “ _Hahren?_ ” she asked, her voice trembling as she reached to take his hand despite her reservations. She was met with the real, physical feeling of damp leather against her palm and it nearly made her jump out of her skin. Was this…? This was no dream.

    He smiled genuinely, the way his eyes narrowed with a curved show of teeth. He gently guided her from the boat and onto solid ground, her steps wavering and careful. She looked about as he lowered her hand, tentatively slipping from her fingers as he withdrew and walked up a short few steps that had been carved out of the rock they stood on. Small granules gritty under her footwear as she turned, she looked about the place now.

    Furniture of varying sorts had been set up along the smooth rocky ground that led from the lake, most of the pieces matching in silvers and blue hewn by a fine craftsman. A scepter with a shimmering green orb stood anchored under an arch near other various trinkets, instruments, and tools set up as if they were placed so he could glide from one to another on a whim, changing between the hobbies that fancied him at any moment. The area looked disorganized, but she had a feeling that there was an organization to the chaos, for he would never have a cluttered living space. At least, she hadn’t envisioned he would.

    Turning her auburn eyes to her guide, she ascended the steps to approach him. He thrust his jacket and cloak across a large, ornate chair that was pulled away from a drawing table, tilted up and covered in unfinished sketches in graphite. He patted at his primped, dark hair before turning back to her, a beige cuffed shirt and simple grey vest revealed from under the overcoat.

    He cleared his throat and turned towards her fully, nervous.

    Ellana brought her hands close to her, the chiffon sleeves of her stage dress bunching up at her elbows. “Where are we?”

    He nodded slightly in a reflexive way that he had done her dreams, and its familiarity was striking to her. “My apologies. I am sure you are quite confused. We ah…” he took a moment to glance around before spreading his arms open loosely at his sides, “We are in my home.”

    “Your…” she murmured, reaching out and drawing her fingers over the top of a table adorned with paints and ingredients to mix to create them. “Your home?” She turned her head to give him a perplexed look, her loose hair falling over her shoulder as she did.

    A wave of warmth caressed her cheek and she gasped, drawing her face quickly to match his again. His hands were hidden behind his back now as she felt the warmth glide over her ear and edge up the curve of it, making her shudder and simultaneously walk towards him, as if the touch beckoned her to him all on its own.

    “I have not been very honest with you, _da’len_ ,” he admitted, his tone low with a shaking tenor at the end of his sentence, “I must apologize for that.”

    The chandelier all but forgotten, Ellana took a stumbling step towards him before righting herself, the caressing magic pressing gently against the base of her skull.

    He continued, “I am no spirit, it is true. I felt that I had no choice but to lie to you, however.”

    “Why?” she whispered, blinking a few times before opening her eyes to focus on him, guiding her focus up the rugged nose of the mask to his eyes.

    Mercifully, the spell left her skin and she found that she could focus again, standing straighter as the spir–no, not a spirit, the man explained. “I have tried to teach before, but no one was willing to…listen to me, to try to understand.” His jaw tightened, as did his eyes. “They ignored my magic and cast me off as an old fool, telling me my magic was ‘archaic,’ that it was…was better left forgotten.”

    Ellana shook her head, affronted at the very notion that anyone could think so poorly of his magic, of his skill. “They are fools, _hahren_! Your magic is beautiful, and you are a wonderful teacher.”

    His face relaxed, a small smile curving his mouth under the mask. “Thank you, and you have been a splendid student, _da’len_.”

    “But…why did you tell me you were a spirit?” she asked, her thin eyebrows drawing into a furrow.

    A breath snaked through the nose holes of the mask as he turned and glanced at the scepter behind him, standing in an inlet of stone. “I feared you would rebuke me as the others did. You would understand a spirit, surely, or at the very least you would believe a spirit when it spoke to you.” He turned to meet her gaze again, an apology sitting on his eyes. “I apologize.”

    Ellana rung her hands now, a few candles flickering to life as her teacher’s exacting gaze glanced over them quickly. The incident that happened came back to her again. How had such a thing slipped her mind?!

    “The…Faust! What happened at the theatre?” she asked, hands fluttering over her chest as she looked around, alarmed and trying to deduce what to do. “We must go back; I have to help the others!”

    The man took a breath and suddenly Ellana’s sight shifted. The candles glowed brighter than they had a moment ago and his hands dropped from behind him. Her fears and anxiety ebbed out of her slowly until she felt contented, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks as she blinked rapidly.

    “They are safe, _da’len_ , you needn’t worry about them,” he assured her, his voice dropping low and warm, her chest tightening at the tone of it. He’d never spoken to her like that before, it was…thrilling.

    “Are you sure, _hahren_?” she wondered, swaying slightly on her feet. The smell of the burning candles and the soothing energy from them began to swell and fill her, his aura radiating from his body as he moved closer to her. She felt drunk with the feeling, his magic sliding gently against her aura in a way that gave her gooseflesh.

    He released a shuddered breath and stood close to her, arms bent at the elbows with his hands on either side of her, ready to catch her if she fell. “Yes, I am sure. Concentrate, you’ve done this before.”

    She placed her hands at the crooks of his arms, her elbows resting easily in his waiting hands. He stiffened under her for a moment before relaxing and she pushed back against his spell, her lips pressing together as she concentrated. Just like in your dreams, Ellana, this time it’s no different.

    But it was different. Even if she couldn’t feel his skin against hers, his aura was there, and she could feel the heat coming from his body as they stood so close. It was so real, and so much more so than her imaginings could conjure, than her dreams could simulate. The gentle stimulation of the twisted fabric around her was so much more intense and crisp when it was real, standing here with him. No performance magic had ever felt this way before, had felt so heavy and so…

    The heat pushed in around her and she nearly whimpered at the soft but sharp crackles against her skin, his grip tensing against her forearm as she reacted.

    “You are elsewhere, _da’len_ ,” he murmured in that same low tone. “If you do not push back I will come in around you.”

    Creators save her, but she almost wanted that. She didn’t voice as much as she squared her shoulders and weaved her magic, feeling nearly humiliated as she stepped back to an elementary form of eeking magic from her form, spirals and threads of it coming from the core of her, down her limbs and up to the points of her sharp ears. It twisted through the locks and tendrils of her thick dark hair, splintering like veins when it left her body and reached from her aura to meet the encroaching energy from her teacher. She twisted it to grasp out like fingers, connecting to meet him and shove weakly.

    He chuckled and she felt his hot breath connect with the skin on her nose and cheeks, her head instinctively turn up towards it. “You are using your body as a focus? My my, I didn’t realize you were so behind. I seem to be relaxing too much as your mentor. Perhaps I should test you more often.”

    It took more mental fortitude than Ellana was willing to admit to simply keep her knees locked after that, imagining other ways that he could test her rather than a simple barrier shrink over her aura. Unfortunately, that mental fortitude didn’t extend to her mouth, which let loose without her consent as her magic pushed gently against his again, “I would do well under more of your indomitable focus.”

    A surge of pride bloomed in her chest when she felt him breath and her magic push successfully back at his eclipsing aura, the warm distracting tingling on her skin becoming less intoxicating.

    “You are testing me, _da’len_ ,” he warned, hushed and haughty, and she felt weak all over again, but not due to any magic this time. She felt him shift, drawing his arms farther behind him and, by extension, moving her closer to him. His grip only tightened on her limbs, however, as if he was putting more pressure on himself rather than on her. “Be careful what you wish for, Ellana.”

    Her name! When had her name ever sounded so beautiful than when it was formed by his tongue, molded in his voice? Her magic flared with the warmth surging low inside of her. The purpose of the exercise slowly being eroded by her growing desire for him, she opened her eyes finally and looked up into his face, his blue eyes almost luminescent in the dark, radiating a danger, a warning. Even with that cold edge, his shadowed eyelids were drawn low and heavy, softening that danger into almost the reverse, a challenge for her to overcome.

    Her aura pulsed and pushed, the corner of one of his eyes twitching reflexively. She smirked at that and leaned up towards him, feeling bold. “What I want is for you to say my name again.”

    He stilled under her arms before tucking his chin down and meeting her gaze straight on, the dim candles causing the mask over his face to glow. This thing was in the way, she wanted to see him. Ignoring the accessory, she met his hard look with one of her own, inching just a bit closer to him, arching her back to accentuate her breasts as she breathed.

    A gust of breath hit her face and she nearly smiled when he spoke. “How would you like me to say it?”

    The harsh press of his aura fractured her confidence, but she kept a steady hold against it as her eyebrows arched over her eyes.

    “Shall I praise you for being so beautiful on stage tonight? Tell you how you had those Orlesians wrapped around your slender fingers; how proud that makes me?” His tone could easily be described as husky, hard.

    The barrier around her aura shifted, rippling against it before pushing in again, the branches of magic she’d created from her body tangling its roots in the foreign magic.

    “Shall I scold you instead, _da’len_? Tell you how bad you’ve been with your meditations and…correct your behavior?”

    It was becoming almost intolerable as she braced herself on his arms now, forgetting her pride as she let her head drop and her eyes flutter closed. She tried to strengthen the magic around her to no avail, wanting nothing more than for him to keep talking like he was now, to have his casting settle over her skin completely. This distance, this teasing was…maddening!

    His voice was closer now, his breath warmer as he leaned in towards her. She didn’t have the guts to open her eyes now and instead waited on baited breath for what he would say next.

    “Or shall I call your name to remind you of it once I’ve ravaged you to forgetfulness?”

    The breathy moan escaped her then and she wanted nothing more than to crush her body against his, but his hands stayed locked on her forearms, continuing to keep her physically restrained from him. She whined when the magic swirled closer to her but stopped just shy of enveloping her completely. He was playing with her now, or had he been doing it from the beginning?

    Somehow she found her voice amidst her labored breathing, “ _H-Hahren_ …”

    “Solas.”

    She slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze again. His breathing was measured, but harder than it had been before, the blue and grey swirling with a need, numerous desires that she couldn’t hope to place. Her face held the question for her and his grip shifted, his fingers dragging gently from her forearms to the sides of her arms at her elbows.

    “My name is Solas.”

    She decided to try out to see how it felt to say it, happy to be on equal terms on at least one thing.

    She hadn’t counted on sounding so pathetic and desperate when she said it. “Solas…” 

    His gripped hardened to hurting at the juncture of her arms now as he stood, warring with himself for a brief moment. Was this all because she had said his name? Surely her voice couldn’t have the same effect his had on her, that would be ridiculous.

    “So be it,” he whispered.

    His fluttering, teasing magic snapped to attention and collapsed onto her skin. She cried out and jerked as the heat smothered and soaked into her pores, trembling over the follicles of ever downy hair on her body. Her nerves lit up and coursed through her from skin through muscle, shredding through her like lightening. Somewhere in that flood of satisfying and euphoric sensation his name came loose from her throat once again, and he embraced her when her knees finally gave out and she collapsed against him. Before she drifted back into semi consciousness, she heard him say hers again in a whisper.


End file.
